May I have this dance?
by The Mocking J
Summary: I felt his hand rest in the small of my back. Our gazes met and he twirled me around and around. For that small eternity there was nothing but he and I lost in the music of Monte d'Or. It was enchanting... Later, however, I would wonder what I truly meant to him.
1. May I Have This Dance?

_**[[This is my take on a clip from one of the new Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask Plus trailer. Emmy can be seen dancing with Layton (both dressed up) while Luke watches them, pretty much being a third wheel :3 I'm not 100% sure which part of the game this takes place at— probably near the beginning because Luke gets chased by the Masked Gentleman at some point. But who cares? They're dancing— it's an official Layton/Emmy moment in my eyes. Let's enjoy it!]]**_

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May I have this dance?

Luke had noticed they were advertising costumes for hire at a boutique in the shopping district of Monte d'Or. Predictably, the professor agreed with him when he asked if the three of us could dress up for the festive parade.

The moment I walked over the threshold I was swept up by the shop owner who claimed to know "exactly" what a young woman like me was looking for. She hustled me into a changing room at the back of the store, leaving Luke and the professor to browse the clothes and accessories out on display. Grabbing a dress off a nearby pole, she told me (or rather, forced me) to try it on while she went to choose the boys' costumes.

I hardly ever wore dresses... and pink was definitely _not _my usual colour. The gown was made of silk, had long sleeves with a flowing skirt and a darker rose coloured sash around the middle that continued at the back of the bodice.

How could it be that I'd solved countless puzzles from the professor, but I couldn't work out for the life of me how to put this darn thing on? I was taking so long that eventually the stylist knocked on the cubicle door, asking if I needed any help.

"No!" I growled; one arm hanging from the wrong sleeve. (I actually had the garment on backwards.)

"Your friends already have their costumes on," she called.

Luke was fed up and raring to go. "Hurry up, Emmy!" I heard him shout "I want to see the parade!"

"Now Luke, a gentleman should always have patience in a lady."

This was humiliating, especially with the professor waiting. Luke would probably have a good laugh about it afterwards. I gritted my teeth, trying to free myself from the pink fabric prison as I hollered to them "Just go on without me... I'll meet you at the marquee in a minute!"

"Are you sure?" The professor checked in a concerned voice.

"Yes! Go now!" I would escape from this dress if it was the last thing I ever did.

Five minutes later and I was still stuck. Before I could attempt to rip the gown to shreds, the shop keeper knocked again.

"Right, I'm coming in. You can either unlock the door or I'll break it down myself."

Sighing, I shouldered the handle open (both my arms were trapped at this point) and the woman entered. She appraised my predicament and started tsking. "What have you done? I will not have you ruin that dress!" She fussed and pulled at the gown, jerking me around like a mannequin. Only when I had the dress on properly— arms now in the correct sleeves and buttons done up at the back— was she finally satisfied.

"There we go." The shop owner released a weary sigh but she was smiling. "Have a look in the mirror."

I turned and gaped at my reflection. The dress fitted me perfectly— although it was a major contrast to my everyday practical style. I would have smiled at my appearance, had it not been for the fact that my hair resembled a bird's nest from where I'd yanked the dress over my head so many times.

I wasn't normally terribly worried about my hair, but I'd had it cut recently... (I was still hoping the professor would notice and comment on it.)

"I can fix that for you if you like," the woman offered. She brushed my hair into a pretty half-up style; securing it into a bun at the back and allowing the rest of the brown waves to fall past my shoulders. "It needs one last touch..." She slipped a white rose behind my ear and winked at me. "Perfect! Now you and your gentleman friend will be matching slightly."

Despite not really understanding what she meant, I thanked her and grinned at my reflection this time. I, the brash feisty Emmy Altava, looked like a princess!

-0-

I swore in a very un-princess like fashion as I staggered down the street. On my way out of the boutique I paid the shop keeper and she had handed me a pair of red high heels, insisting they completed my look. I couldn't walk straight in them. I wished to be wearing my sturdy black boots right now. What if I suddenly needed to run, jump and kick an enemy? I would never be able to fight dressed like this!

I wobbled around a corner and followed the sound of circus music until I reached the marquee. The parade had already begun; a throng of tourists had gathered along the golden brick pavement to watch. It was going to take me forever to spot the professor and Luke in this huge crowd...

I was so busy searching for them that I misplaced my footing. Suddenly, I tripped— _CURSE YOU, HIGH HEELS!—_ and went flying. I would have fallen flat on the pavement if a person hadn't caught me from behind, their strong arms encircling my hips.

First I imagined some creep (there were plenty of that sort prowling around Monte d'Or) just looking for an excuse to touch a girl. I aimed a glare at this potentially shady character... when I saw that my saviour was none other than Professor Layton.

He asked "Are you alright, my dear?"

My eyes widened at his new apparel; he wore a formal white tuxedo over a grey under vest with a purple bow tie surrounding the collar. However, what shocked me most was that he had switched his black top hat for a white one with a silver ribbon around its rim.

"_Where's your hat_?" I blurted out. (I was referring to the one he always wore, of course.)

"Whatever do you mean?" the professor chuckled, touching the brim of his current white headpiece. "It's right here. A true gentleman never removes his hat." Then he studied me in a way which he had never done before (perhaps it was the dress); his eyes trailed over my figure, causing me to shiver a little. "You look beautiful tonight, Emmy," he breathed. His gaze snapped away from me when he realised he may have been staring for too long.

I gave him a coy smile. "And you look quite dashing, Professor. Very _Laytonesque_."

His hand still on my waist, he guided me over to where he and Luke had been standing in front of a small hedge. They'd had a full view of me walking down the road, but if Luke had witnessed my dramatic slip he didn't mention it.

"There you are, Emmy!" Luke crowed. I had to admit it— he looked adorable. His little grey jacket almost mimicked the style of his mentor's. Luke's hair had been combed back and he held his brown teddy bear at his chest (which he made wave its paw to me).

I smirked at him. "Hello, Mr Teddy Bear, can you tell Second Assistant that Emmy says he's dressed very smartly?"

"Thank you, Emmy— _Hey! _It's Apprentice Number One!" Before Luke could give me the passionate rant about how he was and always would be the professor's Number One Apprentice, there was a loud _pop _and sparkling confetti rained down from the sky. "Wooow!" The boy hopped around in excitement, trying to catch the confetti and get a better glimpse of the passing circus performers. "This is great Professor! Did you just see that...?"

But for that moment the professor didn't answer his apprentice. Instead, to my surprise, he gently took my hand and proposed "May I have this dance, Emmy?"

I could barely walk three steps and he expected me to _dance? S_teadying myself by placing my other hand on his shoulder, I replied rather boldly "Of course, but you'll have to hold on to me tightly, otherwise I might fall again."

I felt his hand leave my waist to rest in the small of my back. Our gazes met and he twirled me around and around.

For that small eternity there was nothing but he and I lost in the music of Monte d'Or.

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_**((Do I suck at writing romantic stuff? I hope not. Review please!))**_


	2. Disenchantment

**[[What's this? Apparently some people don't think I suck at writing romance. :D Thanks to those who reviewed the first part of this story— it makes me happy.**

**Anonymous ****the guest reviewer then requested: **_**"Perhaps you could continue this, maybe have a scene back at the hotel?" **_**So, this has gone from a oneshot to a twoshot if such a thing exists. This is a follow up but I'm still unsure which point of the game that dancing clip or when Luke being chased by the Masked Gentleman from the MMP trailer is at, so bear with me. Now, I know what you're thinking: Emmy + Layton + Hotel bedroom= **_**Shameless smut**_**. But I can make it more interesting than that...]]**

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Disenchantment 

The three of us made it to the Camel's Hump Hotel in one piece after our run-in with the Masked Gentleman. Luke had been left quite shaken and weary by the villain's most recent "miracle" and he wanted to rest. I would never dream of teasing him at a time like this; the poor kid was probably scared out of his wits.

We passed the clerk at the desk in the immaculate lobby and trailed up the grand staircase to the boys' quarters. The rooms here were fit for royalty (we _were _Mrs Ledore's special guests, after all): there was a large arched bay window that offered a clear view of the dessert, long regal blue curtains framing the glass. You could sit in one of the green settees, gazing outside. Between the seats was a round wooden table polished to glossy perfection. A pretty vase of flowers and an oblong mirror had been placed above the mantel piece. Everyone had their own king sized bed (Luke would surely feel like a tiny mouse in a giant hawk's nest) with a fancy headboard and clean white covers.

Once inside room 502 (and away from prying ears) we discussed the day's events, the progress we had made in our investigation of Monte d'Or, and anything we'd learned about the Masked Gentleman. Then the professor informed Luke and I of his past. It broke my heart to hear him recount how he had lost his best friend eighteen years ago. Occasionally he would hesitate as he unearthed these troubled memories to us. Were we the only people he'd ever told what had happened? Perhaps he was filled with regret; like an unhealed scar at the back of his mind. I know I would be remorseful if anything happened to my companions. Luke was like a younger brother to me, and the professor... I didn't even want to imagine the gaping hole that would be left in my life without Professor Layton.

The professor had only been talking for a few hours when he decided to stop, insisting we retire to bed as it was late. Strangely, he appeared bitter after telling his story; older, withdrawn, _drained _even, so unlike the usual confident professor that we knew. Was this really the same man who had danced with me before? He'd looked much happier then, with a cheerful smile spread across his face. Now there was only a deep sadness in his dark eyes.

-0-

I would have preferred to share a room with the professor and Luke, but instead I was up in 602, a floor directly above them. Oh, well. I wasn't scared of being alone. (Thankfully, this hotel was far too clean for any spiders to be crawling about.)

Just before I drifted off to sleep I heard a sudden yell below me, and I bolted out of bed, immediately alert. The next thing I knew there were fleeting footsteps along the hall and someone pounded on my door. I flung the door open, coming face to face with a very distressed looking Luke. He stood in the doorway wearing his light blue pyjamas; his was hair dishevelled, eyes wide with fear.

"Luke! What's going on?"

"I-it's the professah—"

"Is he being attacked?" My blood ran cold. "The Masked Gentleman is here isn't he!" I would kill that scoundrel if he'd dared hurt the professor.

Luke shook his head frantically. "N-no, I don't think so...The p-professah just started shouting and thrashing for some reason. But he wouldn't answer me when I asked if he was okay. I didn't know what to do... Come and see!"

I swiftly followed him downstairs to their room. Sure enough, the professor was convulsing in his sleep just as Luke had described. The professor grasped the duvet cover so hard that his knuckles turned white. Sweat plastered the man's forehead; his features were contorted with anguish. Another cry broke from his lips:

"R-Randall... _Ngh_... I... _I can't hold on_...!"

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Luke asked me worriedly as if I was a doctor. Never before had we seen the professor in such a terrified state. It must have been frightening for _Luke _to observe his fearless mentor this way.

"_RANDALL!" _The professor's arm flew out. Reaching for the friend he had been unable to save.

I replied "It looks like he's having a nightmare." A horrible nightmare induced by the underserved self guilt the professor had harboured for all these years. Only now after visiting Angela and reliving the past was that guilt starting to show. I sat on the edge of the professor's bed as his screams gradually became pitiful whimpers.

"Angela, forgive me... I couldn't save him. I'm sorry; _I tried!_ I'm so _sorry—_!"

"Shouldn't we wake him?" Luke had entered major panic mode now. "Or maybe you're not supposed to wake people up... No, that's just for sleepwalkers!"

Placing my hand on his hot cheek, I too wondered whether it would be wise to rouse him. He was suffering but we didn't want to give him a shock... Before I could pull my hand away the professor abruptly turned to me. First I thought he was awake. However, his eyes were tightly squeezed shut and the pained expression was still there.

"_Claire..."_ I stiffened when the professor uttered this name. "Is...Is that you...?" I was silent as he stretched his arms out again, this time for Claire.

Luke wasn't near enough to hear the professor properly. "What did he say?"

I didn't respond to the boy though; my attention was still fixed on the professor. He groped around the sheets, desperately searching for _her_. "Where are you, Claire?"

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I whispered "I'm... I'm right here." Hesitantly, I crawled closer so that I lay with him on the bed.

Feeling a body beside him, the professor wound his arms around me and gave a tremulous sigh of relief. His breath felt warm againsy my face. "Please, don't leave me again..." He ran his fingers through my wavy hair, holding me tight.

I hugged him back and assured him softly "Yes, yes, I'm right here. I won't leave you... I promise, Hershel."

I remained like that for several moments— locked in an embrace not meant for me- until the professor's ragged breathing grew deeper and his pained expression finally receded. For now he had slipped into a peaceful slumber; his frame no longer rocked with unease. I slowly shifted away from him (hoping he wouldn't stir) and got off the bed to face Luke.

"He should be alright now," I murmured to the boy. (Why did my voice sound so thick all of a sudden?) "But if he has a nightmare again, just wake him up gently."

Luke nodded. "Or maybe you could give him another hug. That really helped him..."

I shrugged. _I _wasn't the person the professor had believed he was cuddling. I cast my mind back to earlier when the two of us were dancing. Did all he see was _her _when he looked at me?

* * *

_**[[Just in case anyone is confused, Emmy has no idea who Claire is here. She's just guessing that Claire must have meant a lot to Layton... I've heard some people say that Emmy resembles Clare in a few ways. And if you're wondering about the title, Emmy has been "disenchanted", realizing that Layton may not have felt the same thrill as her when they were dancing. She wonders what she truly means to him.]] **_


	3. Understanding

_**[[**__**Dragonchu89**__** requested that I continue this with a chapter where Emmy asks Layton about Claire. So, this story has gone from oneshot to twoshot to threeshot. ^_^; I can guarantee this will definitely be the end. **_

_**Spoilers for Miracle Mask and slight spoilers for Unwound Future. Disregards any information from Azran Legacies.]] **_

* * *

**Understanding**

Luke was slumped against the car window, blue cap slipping off his head and onto his nose. I smirked at the sight, endearing as it was, wishing I could doodle a moustache on him. (What a shame I left my black marker pen at home.) It wasn't surprising he'd nodded off so quickly after the crazy adventure we'd just had. Regardless, if it was me behind the wheel Luke would be screaming his head off right now. Luckily for him the professor and I had switched seats half an hour ago, so Luke could rest easily knowing his mentor was driving. Tempting as it was, I decided not to disturb Luke and returned my gaze to the front of the car.

Though the dessert was far behind us, this barren road was still dull as porridge compared to the festive, vibrant atmosphere of Monte d'Or. I hadn't even seen a tumbleweed roll by. Oh well, at least there were fewer cactuses around. And without all the sand I could see the spiders coming for me.

I glanced at the professor. He seemed so much more at ease now that the mystery was over. His long lost friend was alive, and everyone had finally been forgiven. With all that guilt lifted off the professor's shoulders, he wouldn't have any more nightmares... Right?

Unless Professor Layton blamed himself for something else that had happened in his life. Something to do with the one called Claire.

The last thing I wanted to do was stir up horrible memories for the professor. But it had been nagging at me since that night at the hotel. I _had_ to know.

"Professor..." I let my voice hover in the air for a moment.

He looked at me with his placid smile (a smile that would crack any second). "Yes, Emmy?"

"Who is _Claire?_"

The professor was so shocked by the simple sound of _her _name that he slammed the breaks down and the car jolted to a halt. Thankfully the Laytonmobile was the only vehicle for miles on this road. Luke shifted and muttered something, but he didn't stir.

Professor Layton was wide-eyed, blinking, his fingers digging into the steering wheel. "W-_what did you say_?"

I winced, instantly wishing I could take the question back. Why did I always have to be so inquisitive, too assertive? Why did I even _care _about what this anonymous woman meant to him? It wasn't my business to pry into the professor's private past, let alone his possible love life.

"You don't need to answer if you don't want to..." I muttered, turning away from him. "But the other night— you were shouting in your sleep about Randall falling, begging Angela for forgiveness... Then you mentioned another name."

He exhaled to compose himself and apologised "I'm sorry you and Luke had to hear all of that. Did I frighten you?"

"Luke didn't know what to do so he came to get me. We were both extremely worried about you." That was an understatement. The stab of panic I'd felt that night when I first thought the professor had been attacked was unbelievable. It was unusual for me to be so shaken in alarming situations.

"Well, thank you for bearing with my... nightmares," the professor sighed.

"It might help if you talked about them with someone," I prompted softly.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He paused for a moment. At first I didn't believe he would explain the terrible dreams to _me,_ though that's what I was hoping. (Perhaps he thought I'd meant discussing the problem with a psychiatrist or something.) But then he checked his apprentice remained sound asleep before he took a deep breath, and began:

"I already informed you of what happened to Randall eighteen years ago. After that, I could no longer stay in Stansbury. Wrought with misery, Angela partly blamed me for my involvement in Randall's death, and at school there were some rumours that I was a murder. I needed to escape from the unbearable guilt hanging over me every single day. So, my parents and I moved to London. As time passed, I learned to live with my guilt— never forgetting— but accepting that Randall was gone and nothing could change that."

_That's what everyone believed until we saw Randall at the Reunion Inn yesterday _Ithought.

"By coming to terms with my past, I was able to start a clean slate at university. That was when I met Claire..." The professor touched the brim of his treasured top hat. "She was my... girlfriend back then."

My suspicions had been correct. I imagined a young Hershel Layton meeting the love of his life; that special person who could put the light back in his eyes and bring him joy again. He must have told her about Randall, as he had told me and Luke.

Dreading his reply, I dared to whisper "What happened to Claire?"

The professor bowed his head; his eyes darkening. "She... she passed away."

"Oh." I swallowed, disgusted with myself. How could I have felt the smallest spike of jealousy for the professor's university sweetheart? I had never even known her. Several moments of silence elapsed between the professor and I, as if we were honouring Claire.

Eventually I breathed "What was Claire like— if you don't mind me asking?"

This query appeared to lift the professor's spirits slightly. He closed his eyes, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Well... Claire was intelligent, diligent and extremely determined; there was no swaying her once her mind was set. She had love for traditional English mannerisms... Her persistence knew no bounds, but most people admired her for that," he let out a low chuckle. "Her laughter was the most wonderful sound. I never grew tired of hearing it... She was beautiful, selfless, incredibly brave..."

"_You remind me of her in many ways, Emmy." _was what I kept expecting him to admit. Whether it would please me or disappoint me to hear that, I wasn't sure. But of course the professor wouldn't say that. Instead, he continued listing everything he had loved about Claire, even some of the negative aspects of her personality. (Because of course she wasn't the flawless goddess I'd initially envisioned her to be.)

When the professor realized he'd been babbling for fifteen minutes straight, he suddenly stopped. A blush had stolen across his cheeks. "I- I apologise, Emmy. I've kept you listening for far too long."

"No, I'm glad you were able to speak to me like this." I meant it. The professor needed to open up to people every now and again— he was only human, after all.

"Thank you. It does help to share my thoughts with someone I trust immensely."

_Had he said the same thing to Claire? _I shook my head, dispelling the thought. It didn't matter. I was Hershel Layton's assistant, his trusted companion... Who knew, maybe I _could_ mean something more to him in the future, but for now I was content just being by this man's side.

_This incredible man who had lost so much, suffered so undeservingly, but he kept going, helping others wherever he went._

I reached out to give the professor's hand a reassuring squeeze. It had turned out his best friend was alive after all these years. So perhaps there was a chance he would find true love again...?

*Yawn.* "What time is it, Professah...?" Luke wondered groggily. "I'm hungry... Can we have something to eat, please?"

The professor and I exchanged amused looks. Then I burst out laughing. "Sure we can, Second Assistant. Sure we can."


End file.
